


I'll Stand By You

by tqpannie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-22
Updated: 2005-10-22
Packaged: 2018-10-25 13:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10765014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tqpannie/pseuds/tqpannie
Summary: A mission goes wrong and Hermione comforts her best mate.





	I'll Stand By You

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Hermione glanced up from the five-foot scroll she had been writing on and looked at the clock. She stretched and massaged the kinks from her neck; she had been working on this research non-stop for the last five hours and it was almost midnight. The wind caused her windows to rattle slightly, and Hermione was surprised to see a great deal of snow piled on to her balcony. So much for the Daily Prophet forecaster’s prediction of a light dusting of snow. She frowned when she realized that the light dusting was rapidly turning into a blizzard. Shivering, she stood, intending to add more wood to the fireplace, when a soft knock echoed through her flat. She drew her dressing gown more firmly around her. She briefly wondered who was calling at midnight, and made her way to the door. She was shocked to see Ron through the peephole. Making quick work of the locks on her door, she flung it open in surprise.

“Ron, what are you doing here?” she asked.

Her eye’s raked across his features. He had a large red mark on his face in the shape of a hand print, snow clung to his hair making it appear white, and his robes looked completely soaked, as if he’d been outside for a considerable amount of time. He took a step towards her and Hermione was stunned to see his knees buckle. She caught him underneath his arms, staggering from his weight, and shivered at the cold the seeped through her dressing gown. His teeth were chattering, and when his head fell forward against her neck, his eyes slid closed, and she could feel his eyelashes brush against her neck, leaving a cold, wet trail. He felt dangerously cold and she pulled him close, trying to let the warmth from her body flow into his. 

“What happened?” she whispered. “What’s wrong?” She tried to keep the anxiety she was feeling from showing in her voice. 

“My fault,” he muttered sleepily, “Luna and her father, all my fault.” He wrapped his arms around her as if she were the only thing anchoring him to the ground. “Death Eaters killed them, and I wasn’t fast enough.” His voice was hoarse but he continued through chattering teeth. “Used some type of Muggle weapon on Terry, he’s at St. Mungos and probably won’t make it.”

Hermione was horrified and let out a shocked little gasp. She couldn’t believe it -- Luna was gone. She briefly wondered how many more friends they were going to lose before the war ended.

“I had to tell Hannah and the girls.” Ron’s voice had taken on a dreamy quality. “Hannah hit me and told me it was my fault. That I was to blame for taking him with us when I knew he had children at home.” 

“It wasn’t your fault, Ron; you couldn’t have known,” Hermione whispered into his hair, kissing the top of his head. He didn’t respond and Hermione knew for certain he was in shock. She couldn’t completely rule out hypothermia either. She had to keep him awake until she could get him warmed up. She shook him a bit to rouse him. 

“Ron, we’ve got to get you out of these wet clothes,” she said urgently. “Wake up and help me.” Hermione was frightened; if he had hypothermia and she didn’t get his body temperature up, he was going to die. She felt his eyelashes flutter against her neck again and gave a sigh of relief that he had heard her.

“I want to go to sleep, Hermione. You’re so warm and I’m so tired,” he muttered against her shoulder, pulling her closer.

“No! You can’t go to sleep, Ron!” She was on the edge of panicking. “Walk with me. Come on now.” She began backing up towards the loo, hoping he would follow her. 

“Please, Hermione, I’m tired, let me rest for a bit,” he whined, but continued to let her pull him along, and shuffled his feet in time with hers. “I don’t feel like dancing, Hermione. Why are we dancing?” he asked, sounding a bit intoxicated.

She managed to finally pull him into the loo and prise his arms from around her waist. He sat down heavily on the chamber pot and buried his head in his hands. She glanced nervously at him, noticing for the first time that his lips were blue. The red handprint stood out starkly against his pale skin. She turned on the shower and let the water run until it was warm. She pulled him up on his feet and with deft fingers removed his robes. Her stomach twisted when she saw the blood stains on his uniform, and with shaking hands she slid his shirt up over his head. The blood had seeped through his shirt and left trails on his skin, and she bit her lip to keep her tears from falling. Ron didn’t offer a word of protest when her hands slid to the waist of his trousers and swiftly undid the button at the waist and lowered the zipper. His skin felt like ice against her hands as she slid his trousers and boxers down his long legs, and once again he collapsed against her.

“Come on, Ron. You have to get inside the shower,” she said urgently. His teeth began to chatter again. “I promise you’ll get warm, I promise.”

“You keep me warm,” he whispered into her hair. “I was so cold, Hermione.” 

She forcibly removed his arms from around her waist and turned him towards the shower. Her eyes briefly raked his form, taking in his long legs that were covered with a layer of light red hair, the broadness of his shoulders. She felt a tremor of desire run through her body and was immediately ashamed of herself. Here he was, on the verge of hypothermia, and she was ogling him. What kind of person was she?

He seemed to come back to his senses for a moment and his blue eyes peered into hers. She could read the sadness, the guilt, and her heart broke for him. Draping an arm around his waist, she forced him into the warm water and shivered when it soaked her dressing gown. Somehow he had managed to trap her between the faucet and his body, and she held her breath as she watched the warm water run over his firm form. She mustn’t get distracted here; still, she couldn’t help but noticed how his hair had darkened in the water, and how the hair on his chest trailed down into a fine line just under his belly button. She picked up the washcloth with trembling hands, determined to get his blood flowing again. She ran the cloth over his shoulders, down to the bloodstains on his chest, and scrubbed them away. She shivered as the water ran in rivers off his shoulders and soaked her completely. She turned him around to face the other direction and wrapped her arms around his waist, trying to increase the amount of warmth he was receiving. She felt him shake and tightened her hold on him, gradually feeling his skin warm to a more normal temperature. She let the water run over them for several more minutes until satisfied that his body temperature had risen to an acceptable level. She removed her arms from around his waist and turned the water off. She stepped out of the bathtub and grabbed his hand to assist his exit. 

Her head got light when she took in the sight before her: he was standing there in all his glory, swaying slightly, droplets of water glistening on his eyelashes and running in streaks down his body. Hermione was overcome by the sudden urge to run her tongue across his jaw to capture a drop before it trickled down his neck. She physically fought her impulse by turning from him and grabbing a towel from the rack beside her. 

“Ron,” she said, her voice sounded odd to her own ears, “do you still need my help?” She raised her eyes to his and found something unfathomable there, an intensity that shot a wave of tension through her body and caused a delicious fluttering in her stomach. She watched him gulp then wearily nod his head.

She raised the towel and motioned for him to lower his head; once he had complied, she used the towel to gently massage his scalp and hair dry before moving lower. She saw him wince when she gently slid the towel across his cheek where Hannah had hit him. She noticed the mark was gone but she was sure the area was still tender. Her hands shook as she trailed the towel down his neck, softly wiping the stray drops of water still lingering there. She heard his intake of air when ran the towel in circular motion across his chest and down to his navel. She was trying desperately to remain clinical and detached, but the rippling muscles of his stomach were having on odd effect on her libido. Her breathing was ragged as she lowered the towel to his legs and ran it up and down his muscular thighs and calves. He let out a low moan and Hermione jumped up, worried that she had hurt him. Her eyes met his and she marveled at how dark they had become. The normal clear blue had darkened to intense cobalt, which rivaled the color of the sky when it stormed.

“Did I hurt you?” she whispered worriedly

“No, I’m just exhausted,” he answered, tearing his eyes away from hers.

“Come on, let’s find you something to wear.” She tucked the towel around his waist, and it was then that she noticed the effect her drying him off had had on him. She let out a low moan, and promptly massaged the back of her neck so he wouldn’t notice that she was completely and totally aroused. Ron allowed her to lead him to her bedroom, and she forced him to sit on the edge of the bed as she wandered over to her dresser to look for a pair of sweatpants. She looked through her dresser for several minutes before her eyes fell on them: an orange pair of Cannon sweats pants. She hesitated. They had been his and she wasn’t sure she wanted to give them up. She pulled them from the drawer and turned to face him. She was struck by how fragile he looked sitting there; his eyes held a haunted look and he was so pale.

“Here, put these on.” She held out the pants to him and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Those were mine,” he murmured. “When did you--? How did you get them?” He grasped the sweats and stared at her, the surprise evident both in his tone and eyes.

“I nicked them summer after seventh year,” Hermione answered defensively. “I was cold one night.”

“So you nicked my favorite sweats?” He gave her a lopsided smile and she felt heat rise to her cheeks.

“Err… well, yes, it seemed like a good idea at the time.” She turned away so he wouldn’t see the truth in her eyes, and grabbed a fresh pair of pajama’s and knickers.

“I’ll let you change while I go straighten up,” she muttered, and picked up her wand. She waved it, uttering a soft spell, and a cup of steaming tea appeared on the nightstand.

“I want you to drink that, and then it’s off to sleep,” she continued firmly, and turned to leave the room.

“Thank you,” he whispered, causing her to turn and look at him.

“For what?” she asked, honestly puzzled by his remark.

“For taking care of me, and for being my friend,” he answered, and held her gaze for a moment.

Hermione thought she saw something very similar to love flicker in his eyes and her breath caught in her throat.

“You’re welcome, Ron,” she whispered hurrying out of the room.

She rushed into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she was surprised to see a rose color flush staining her cheeks, and she turned on the water in order to splash water on them. It wasn’t right; he was defenseless and all she could think about was ravishing his body. What kind of person did that make her? What kind of friend was she, that despite the fact he was hurting, she wanted him? She changed into the dry pajamas and knickers, taking a deep breath she muttered at her reflection in the mirror. “You will not take advantage of your best friend, no matter how much you love him, and no matter how much you want him.” She continued to stare at her reflection for several minutes, taking deep breaths, and she wondered if she was fighting a losing battle. 

She was startled from her thoughts by the sounds of a glass breaking and repeated loud thumps against the wall in her bedroom. She tore off down the hall and burst through the bedroom door. The sight that greeted her both broke her heart and frightened her. Ron was slamming his fist into the wall repeatedly, his jaw was clenched, and a strange fire glowed in his eyes.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?!” she shouted, rushing to him. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“I couldn’t help them, I couldn’t help him, Hermione!” he growled as he drove his fist into the wall again. “I can’t save anyone.”

“Ron, stop, please.” She reached out and laid her hand on his arm. “Please, for me.”

He turned and looked down at her, and his eyes filled with tears that he rapidly blinked back. “What if it had been you or Harry?” She felt a tremor run through him. “I wouldn’t be able to save you. I’m not sure I could go on.” His voice trailed off and he hung his head.

“Come on,” she whispered brokenly, and she drew him towards the bed. She pulled the covers back as he stood there helplessly, and she could feel his eyes burning into her. She motioned for him to lie down, and when he complied, she covered him with the sheet and quilt. 

“Let me see your hand,” she murmured softly.

“It’s fine, I’m fine, Hermione.”

“Let me see it.” She used her best imitation of Professor McGonagall’s stern voice and was pleased when he complied. She winced when she saw the bruises standing out against his pale skin. His knuckles were cracked and bleeding. She reached across him and grabbed her wand from the nightstand. She heard him draw a hissing breath, and worried that she had hurt him.

She ran her thumb across the back of his hand, trying to gauge whether or not it was broken, then flicked her wand and muttered a healing spell under her breath.

He gave her a halfhearted smile, and she wished she could see his full-blown lopsided grin, the one he gave when he was truly amused or happy. 

He closed his eyes; his red eyelashes were more noticeable, and Hermione gave in to the impulse to stroke his hair. She wished she could heal his pain just like she’d healed his hand. Unfortunately, emotions couldn’t be healed by magic. 

She sat silently for what seemed like a long time, until she thought he was finally sleeping, and moved to finish clearing up her research before bedding down on the couch.

“Don’t go.” His hand snaked around her wrist and his eyelids fluttered open. “Please don’t leave me, Hermione.”

She was torn between wanting to do the right thing and doing what felt right. She studied him for several moments, and read the pleading look in his eyes.

“Budge over, Ron.” She took a deep breath as he complied, and crawled into the bed with him. Reaching over, she tucked the quilt tighter around him, and then lay her head down and openly studied his features in the dim candlelight.

“Ron,” she whispered, “why did you come here tonight?”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he murmured. “I went to Terry’s house and after telling Hannah I just started walking, and I looked up and I was here.” Her eyes widened and she let out a harsh breath when he pulled her closer.

“Why do you think that is?” she wondered out loud

His eyes filled with tears, and he closed them; she could tell he was desperately trying to keep the tears from spilling down his cheeks. She saw his eyelashes glisten with them and brushed them away with her thumb.

“You’re the only person I can go to,” he whispered hoarsely. “You make me feel like I’m whole, and I needed that tonight.” He lifted a shaking hand to her hair and stroked it lightly. “I need it as much as I need air to breath. I was so cold, and I knew if I could just see you, maybe, just maybe, I might find warmth.” His voice broke and great gulping sobs racked his body. 

Hermione felt her emotions give as he buried his head against her neck. Tears poured down her face. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard and she raised her hand hesitantly to stroke his hair. She whispered comforting things against the top of his head, desperately trying to ease his pain and give him just a bit of her strength. 

He looked up at her, trying to catch his breath, and the look in his eyes sent shivers through her. 

“Thank you. You’re always there for me,” he whispered. “I know I’ve not always been much of a friend.”

She bent her head and kissed him gently on the lips. “You’ve been a wonderful friend,” she whispered after a moment.

He kissed her lips softly again. “You’re a wonderful person for saying so, but I know I haven’t always been there for you.”

Her body trembled and she stared at him in disbelief. “You’ve always been there to defend me and protect me, Ron,” she whispered, trying hard to resist the urge to kiss him again. “You coughed up slugs to defend me, you threatened to tear Malfoy apart with your bare hands. I never thanked you.” She bent her head and gave into the temptation to plant a soft kiss on his lips. “So thank you,” she whispered as she drew back and gazed at him.

She felt the air change around them, and she could sense electricity and heat stirring between them when he looked across his pillow at her. He pulled her closer and their lips were only inches apart. She could feel his breath coming in ragged puffs against her face and the heat in his eyes was so intense she had to look away.

“Hermione,” he whispered hoarsely, “look at me.” She shook her head and trembled when he slid his hand to cup her cheek.

“I can’t.” Her eyes slid closed and desire flowed through her when his thumb ran across her lips.

“Why?” he whispered. “You’ve never hidden from me before.” His hand slid under her chin, forcing her, and her eyes flew open. His lips hovered near hers, causing heat to flow through her body. Her breathing was ragged and she fought to find her voice.

“I’m afraid of what you’ll see,” she whispered. “I’m afraid of what I won’t see.” She wanted desperately to run, but she was paralyzed by her feeling and desires.

“You’re afraid,” he said softly, “of what?” Her whole body shook as his fingers threaded through her hair.

“That you don’t feel the same as I do. That you’ll see what’s in my eyes and I’ll lose my best friend,” she murmured, her voice turning into a low groan when his hand slid to the back of her neck and his thumb traced a slow circle at the base.

“So if I told you I feared the same thing and have every time I’ve looked at you for the last ten years, what would you do?”

Hermione’s heart pounded wildly and a dull roar filled her ears; she struggled to regain control over her emotions, and failed miserably. 

“I’d do this,” she whispered, giving in and kissing him fully. She heard a low moan come from deep in his chest when she slid her tongue across his lips. She answered him with a low moan of her own, and deepened the kiss. Their tongues slid against each other as they explored every crevice of the other’s mouth. His arm tightened around her waist and pulled her so she was flush against his body. She could feel his erection pressing against her stomach and arched into it. Her body ached with desire and when his lips left hers to trail to her ear, she groaned. 

“Do you know what it did to me having you dry me with that bloody towel?” he whispered against her ear before taking it between his teeth. “I wanted to rip that wet gown from your body and take you there on the loo floor.” 

She slid her hands across his chest “You have no idea how horrible I felt, wanting you when you were hurting.” She sighed as she raked her fingers across his nipple, drawing it into a hard point. “All I could think was that I wanted you to take me right there, I wanted to feel you inside me, so close that I wouldn’t be able to tell where you began and I ended.”

“Oh God,” he moaned, and rolled so she was underneath him. He claimed her lips in a fierce kiss, thrusting his tongue between her lips to dance against his. His hands trailed fire down her neck and she arched her back when his hand cupped her breast, teasing her nipple through the thin fabric of her dressing gown.

She returned his kiss, meeting him fully, and felt pleasure shoot through her body directly to her center. He drew away briefly and she read the question in his eyes. Nodding her head, she sat up and drew a ragged breath as he drew her short nightgown over her head. She fought the urge to cover herself as his eyes raked across every inch of skin he had exposed. The heat in his eyes as they rested on her breast made her shake with longing, and she heard his breath catch in his throat.

“You’re even more beautiful than in my dreams,” he whispered as he lowered his head and kissed her neck. She pulled him back down on top of her and spread her legs to allow him to settle there. He trailed kisses from her neck and across her shoulders, pausing to allow his lips to tease the hollow of her throat before descending to her breasts. His tongue darted across her nipple, teasing the tip before drawing it into his mouth and suckling her. Fire raced through her and she arched her back, pushing herself more firmly into his mouth. She felt her knickers getting wet as he thrust his hips against her. She could feel his erection rubbing against her, and she savored the groan he released when she pushed her center more firmly against him. She met each thrust of his hips with hers and she softly called out his name.

“I need you,” he whispered, lifting his head to claim her lips again. “I need to be inside you.” His hand slid down her side and between them. She bit her lip and gasped when his hand slid under the elastic of her knickers. 

“Ron…” she cried out when his finger slid through her folds, causing her to arch against his hand. She cried out hoarsely when his finger circled her clit and tossed her head back. “Please, I can’t wait, make me yours.” 

Blinding pleasure shot through her as he pulled her knickers down her legs, and then drew her up on her knees to face him.

He looked at her intensely for a moment. “Are you sure, Hermione?” he murmured. “I love you, but are you sure this is what you want?”

She slid her arms around him, sliding her hands over his arse, and then drawing back to run her hand across the erection tenting his sweats.

“I’ve wanted this since I was old enough to know what this was.” She sighed as she cupped his length. She pushed at the waistband of the sweats and slid them past his hips, working carefully around his erection. Her eyes widened as she slid her hand across him and felt him throbbing in her hand. “Ron, I love you. I’ve always love you.”

He growled deep in his throat and lay back on the bed. “Then take me, and make me yours,” he whispered, repeating her words of a few moments ago. 

She made quick work of the sweats, removing them completely, and slid her body over his. She watched as his eyes rolled back in his head and she could feel the tension radiating from his body in waves. She took him in her hand and guided him to her entrance. Inch by inch, she slid down his length, and his eyes slid shut. They both moaned when he was fully sheathed inside her, and she remained still for a moment as their eyes met.

He rose up on his elbows and looked down to where they were joined, and his hands slid to her hips as she lifted her self slowly up and down his length. She cried out as he slid his hands to her breasts, teasing her nipples into hard points and rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. His hips met her thrust for thrust, and he allowed her to set the rhythm. As her pace quickened, he slid his hand to just above where they were joined and slid his finger over her clit with each upward thrust of his hips. She could feel herself approaching the edge and bit her lip to keep from crying out.

“Let go, Hermione, I want to hear you,” he moaned, his eyes never leaving hers. “I want to hear my name on your lips when you come.” 

The sound of his voice coupled with the feeling of him inside her sent her plunging over the edge into ecstasy. She called his name out, not bothering to lower her voice; her loud cries filled the room as her orgasm over took her.

She was dimly aware of Ron’s own release being triggered by hers, and he called out her name hoarsely. He thrust erratically against her and sent another overwhelming wave of pleasure to through her.

She collapsed against him, her weight resting firmly against his lean and hard body. She groaned as he rolled them over and pulled out of her.

“I love you, Hermione,” he whispered, kissing her forehead gently.

“I love you too,” she answered, and suddenly raised herself up on her elbow.

“Wait a minute,” she gasped. “Just how long have you been in love with me?”

Ron gave her a lopsided smile. “Since you threw your arms around me third year and sobbed hysterically against my chest.” 

“You prat! You’ve made me wait all this time?” she said furiously. “I mean, honestly Ron, I dropped enough hints.”

“Well, how long have you been in love with me?” he asked. “I can’t see how it’s any different.”

Hermione had the grace to blush. “Since first year, when you and Harry were playing wizards chess and you gave me that lopsided grin of yours. I knew then.”

“You’ve made me suffer all these years?” Ron raised his eyebrow at her. “I knew I’d win you over with my chess abilities.”

Hermione glared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing; tears poured down her face and she said between giggles, “We’re both cowards.”

“Not anymore, Hermione; you’re mine and you’re never getting rid of me.” He grinned smugly, pulling her closer. 

“I can live with that.” She smiled and kissed his lips gently.

They snuggled closer together, both of them reflecting that they had finally found the warmth they had been searching for.


End file.
